


A Drabble: Mystery Runner

by LegoLock



Series: Mystery Runner [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Running, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 18:32:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1479766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegoLock/pseuds/LegoLock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is forced to take walks in the park by Lestrade, but he's beginning to enjoy the view...it's blonde, fit, and has a great ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Drabble: Mystery Runner

**Author's Note:**

> Someone mentioned wanting a fic where Sherlock is lusting after John, who works out in the mornings. I liked it so much that this happened...sorry, not sorry.
> 
> (Disclaimer: Sherlock and the works don't belong to me, I'd like them to, but they don't.)

Sherlock slowly followed Lestrade as they walked through the park, the man had insisted Sherlock needed to leave his flat to breath. It was now a sort of bi-weekly ritual Lestrade performed ever since he’d discovered Sherlock had been sitting still so long dust had gathered in his hair. The detective found the whole thing incredibly boring and redundant, he was breathing just fine in his flat. He liked the stagnant musk of chemicals and dust, Sherlock thought he might even prefer it to the fresh air Lestrade was forcing him to endure under the threat of not giving him a case ever again.

However, there was a positive side to the walks they took.

He was blonde, stout, and, as far as Sherlock was concerned, he was delectable. Sherlock had first spotted the man rather by accident and what a happy accident it was. He and Lestrade had been making their usual rounds in the park when he’d appeared on the path ahead jogging towards them. His pace had been impressive and it was clear he was pushing himself a little harder than necessary, but the strain on his face had been breathtaking. His calves flexed exquisitely, but Sherlock had noticed a small imperfection in his stride. Even so, he’d showed no sign of pain or recognition while sweat had gathered on his brow. He'd passed by them in mere moments, leaving behind the faint musk of masculine power and a spicy deodorant. The throaty thrum of his breaths had sent a delicious wave of desire straight through Sherlock’s body and left him buzzing for the rest of the day.

The second time Sherlock saw him, the detective had been trying to figure out his running schedule so he could make Lestrade’s walks coincide with the handsome blonde. For research, of course! The blonde appeared from behind this time, giving Sherlock only a moment of warning when he had breezed by. Sherlock had stared, quite hungrily, at the flexing muscles of his perfect ass. His long fingers had twitched at the thought of what they might feel like as they flexed. A very delicious image of the sweaty runner straddling his cock while Sherlock gripped his fine ass had come to mind. Swiftly calling for the use of his coat to hide his very obvious erection. Luckily, Lestrade hadn’t noticed a thing, nor did he think to question why Sherlock demanded they walk at a certain time at a certain place.

Sherlock continued to trail behind Lestrade, acting as if he didn’t enjoy the walks. Almost too eagerly staring down the path and wondering where his mystery runner would appear. He hoped from behind again, he enjoyed watching the man’s ass bounce with his strong strides and envied the dampness down the back of his shirt that left a lingering scent. Sherlock really wanted to bury his face into the man’s lusciously warm neck and just breath in his musky flavours, which he might actually prefer over his own flat’s stagnant mixture.

The familiar footsteps of his fantasy man caused Sherlock’s head to snap to the noise. The blonde was running on a path that would eventually merge with the one he and Lestrade currently strolled on. As ever, he looked glorious. Sweat was beginning to gather at the crook of his neck and dampen his hair, making him look ragged and ravished. Sherlock’s tongue dabbed at his lips as he watched the muscles of his strong legs bulge, wondering how tight they would wrap around him. It drove a lusting thrum right to the centre of his body and almost made him whimper.

Then, rather unexpectedly, the blonde jogger slowed and his head perked...as if he was suddenly aware he was being watched. Before Sherlock could think to look away, the man was staring at him. The man was surprised, his brow arched just slightly, but not entirely displeased. Sherlock swallowed, almost missing a step as he struggled to keep walking so Lestrade wouldn’t notice.

His lovely jogger noticed the misstep and smirked just slightly, he turned his eyes back to the path and pulled at his sweat dampened shirt as if to fan himself. When that appeared to fail, not that he tried all that hard, he casually slipped it over his head and revealed his beautifully glistening chest and his flat stomach. His abs were not excessively defined, but when they tightened Sherlock felt his throat work to keep down a wanton moan. He was dying to feel those muscles flex under his hands, against his skin...to feel the warm, sweat slicked, skin as he tasted the devilishly handsome man’s breathless lips.

As the blonde drew closer, he slowed to give Sherlock the most exquisite look the detective had ever seen. It was a look of knowing lust and playful eagerness. Sherlock’s heart stuttered and a brief thought crossed his mind as the man slowed to a walk unexpectedly. _ **‘Has he been watching me?’**_

Sherlock felt his mouth run dry as the man causally merged just ahead of them on the path, heading for a bench only a few metres away where he took up stretching. Sherlock didn’t know much about fitness, but he was certain the man was not stretching for his benefit. He was even more certain when the blonde bent over with his ass perfectly displayed. Sherlock was almost tempted to reach out and touch it…

The blonde was hardly through torturing him, finishing his stretches and casually dropping into push-ups. His shoulder muscles bunched and tensed in the most devilish way. His breath puffing with the exertion, but he showed little signs of exhaustion. A groan worked in Sherlock’s chest, his hands delving into his coat pockets to pull the fabric over his groin. A blush of desire tingling on his face. The blonde was showing off, making his push-ups a display of power and sexual prowess. His hips bucking suggestively as he fired Sherlock a wanting gaze, his tongue running over his lips slowly and his breath exhaling in near moans of pleasure.

His mystery runner was clearly very aware of what he was doing and slowly gained his feet after Sherlock started to squirm. He wiped his shirt across his brow and under his chin, watching Sherlock’s every move as the tall man drew nearer. The blonde licked his lips, his chest rising and falling less rapidly as he began to cool down. He was waiting for something, but what?

In an instant, Sherlock was suddenly scrambling to catch the damp shirt being tossed his way. Blushing madly as he reveled in the overwhelming scent and the incredible warmth still clinging to the fabric. Lestrade definitely noticed, but diligently kept walking without so much as a word and started to fish for his phone in his pocket. Sherlock was about to tell him not to phone his brother, but he was rather suddenly jerked down by the lapels of his coat.

Warm, dry, lips rasped against his ear, “I’m John Watson.”

Sherlock’s fingers twisted in the shirt as his face pressed into John’s damp hair with a shudder. “Sherlock Holmes.”

“I’ve been watching you. How about we go somewhere private...so you can stop staring at me with those ‘fuck me’ eyes…” His tone wasn’t asking. It was a command.

Sherlock didn’t know what he liked more...the feel of the body against his or the commanding tone he was now listening to in his ear. A shiver went down his spine and in response he grabbed John Watson by the hand, “My flat’s not far from here…” Hurriedly heading them out of the park and wondering if he could fit a treadmill his flat…


End file.
